


I Broke You, You Broke Me, We’re a F****** Big Hot Mess

by sorrywelovelevi



Series: Winchester Gospel, and the Angels Who Shape It [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempted Murder, Attempted Suicide, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Kidnapped, LGBT characters, LGBTQ Themes, Leviathans, Moose, Murder, Non-Consensual Bondage, Please Be careful, Proceed with caution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Skinwalker, Spirit - Freeform, Squirrel - Freeform, Suicide, Torture, Werewolf, Wraith, cherry pie, djinn, gagged, ghost - Freeform, giraffe, triggering, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29203032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrywelovelevi/pseuds/sorrywelovelevi
Summary: Kelseniana, the youngest angel out of Castiel’s garrison, is kidnapped in the midst of Heaven’s civil war by Crowley, who is being annoyed by the Winchesters’ constant attempts at preventing his purge on... well, purgatory. Dean, who had received emotional healing from the young angel after his breakup with Lisa, becomes enraged and goes on a rampage against the King of Hell.In which Dean falls in love, the angel falls in love back, the Winchesters adopt an angsty teenage girl, and Sam is very concerned.
Relationships: Claire Novak/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Winchester Gospel, and the Angels Who Shape It [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2144100
Comments: 7
Kudos: 7





	1. Angels Shouldn’t Have Vacations

**Author's Note:**

> Personally Crowley is my favorite demon but elastic ally he is a douche. So here you go.  
> This story may have triggering elements. You have been warned. 
> 
> This is my first work, please be nice! Open to suggestions and questions. I am affiliated with other fandoms and am willing to write for them.

Kelseniana stood on a boardwalk in L.A., enjoying the beauty of her Father’s creation. Children played in the sand, giggling as the water tickled their toes. Young couples splashed each other, cackling when their waist-deep friends got swept in by the undertow and had to frantically rush back, coughing the salt from their lungs. Seagulls called out to one another. Somewhere several miles out, dolphins were playing with an abandoned beach ball. A little girl at the Venice outlets was eating ice cream with her father who had just gotten discharged. It was their first time together in months.

The young angel treasured this planet more than the rest of her kind, able to see the beauty in everything. It did make her naive, but more agreeable than her siblings. She talked like a human and not like a robot. She learned what emotions were and experienced them firsthand, even if not all of them were pleasing. Touching, tasting, hearing, smelling, seeing it all. So calming, so perfect. Everyone else wanted the apocalypse. She wanted this. So did Castiel.

So, when Raphael started a civil war, she knew whose side she would take.

Needless to say, her decision had been painful. Killing her brothers and sisters, watching their grace crackle and die. Eyes burned, wings turned to ash. The first time she had done it, she’d cried. Crying was such a painful thing. Not even Castiel, her faithful big brother, could help her. After a few months of battles, Castiel sent her to rest, gather her thoughts and try again in two weeks. A “vacation” he had called it. With faint amusement, Kelseniana realized tears were salty like the ocean, but the ocean was much better. Perhaps that’s why she’d picked it.

Wind whistled gently in her ear as she watched the blue and white ripples, trench coat flapping. To be honest, she’d stolen the style from Castiel, but it was comfortable and made her feel even more at peace. This is what life is supposed to feel like. As Kelseniana sat there, she let her mind wander, thoughts drifting to the Winchesters like a boat lost at sea.

She felt at peace with the Winchesters too. If they weren’t so busy and stressed she would have gone to them instead. Bobby’s chuckles and sarcastic remarks always made her smile. Sam’s ability to find anything on the Internet impressed her. And Dean… don’t get her started on the eldest Winchester boy. They had a special bond. Kelseniana didn’t think it was love, but she could be wrong. At night when he was stressed, sometimes she would take him through Bobby’s scrapyard and climb to the top of a pile to calm him. She found that he liked the stars, so she would sometimes point out constellations. But he already knew them. He memorized the sky a long while ago. But she hadn’t been there since the war began. Since Dean broke up with Lisa.

In all of Kelseniana’s daydreaming, she almost didn’t notice Crowley standing behind her, admiring the waves. Her cloaked wings stiffened. He was supposed to be dead.

“Enjoying Los Angeles, are we, Bunny?” Crowley mused. “You know, this place is disgusting. Trash lining the streets, people scrounging for scraps in the midst of a social hierarchy.” 

“Not all of this is bad,” Kelseniana protested, a cold bite to her voice. “There is beauty and joy here… and I’m not a Bunny. I don’t know where you got that idea.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “You angels. So poetic.”

Though shock was still reminiscent, Kelseniana managed to remain cold. “You’re supposed to be lying in the Empty, Crowley.”

“I have my tricks. Or, you have a falsity in your leadership.”

She turned, grey eyes stormy. “Are you questioning Castiel?” she snapped. 

“I’m not here to talk about Brother Dearest,” Crowley said, a small smirk playing at his lips. What was he planning? Kelseniana couldn’t help but be upset at the fact that her vacation was ruined by a devious demon. A demon that was tormenting her boys.

Not her boys. Her friend’s charges. 

Cautiously, Kelseniana allowed her blade to slip into her fingers. With a wave of her wings they stood in an alley, away from passerby. She couldn’t risk anyone witnessing this, or anyone getting hurt. It would be all her fault. 

That was a bad mistake. 

The gunshot rang against the bricks, followed by the scream. Kelseniana’s insides lit up white-blue, dropping her blade. She’d never felt such pain. Youngest angel in her garrison and she was always protected, even more so during the war. Worst it’s come to was a scratch. 

Crowley blew the smoke from the pistol. “Angel bullets,” he informed her while she curled in the fetal position, trying to handle the pain. “Very effective don’t you think?” He walked over and picked up her blade, muttering something to someone standing above her. It’s not that Kelseniana wasn’t strong, it was that she wasn’t accustomed to this. Her vision was fading and it was hard to breathe. “You see love, I have an annoying little bug that won’t go away. If I’m right, this’ll do the trick to get it to go away.”

Faintly she felt rough hands grab her wrists and cuff them behind her back. When she got picked up she screamed at the top of her lungs. Crowley scowled.

“Shut her up, idiot,” he snapped at the demon. Kelseniana felt something shoved in her mouth and knotted at the back of her head. She didn’t like this. She wanted to be back at the beach, or Bobby’s. Tight black fabric halted her already-fading vision, and she was tossed into the back of a van. Salty tears slowly soaked the blindfold. An emotional ocean. 

“Let’s see the boys work their way out of this,” she heard the other demon mutter. They sounded feminine. 

The shadows outside the blindfold went black, and Kelseniana unwillingly slipped into sleep.


	2. A Lovely Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds out what’s happened and gets some mixed feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you’re enjoying so far! I should update often but I might stop if people aren’t liking. All depends. 
> 
> Please leave comments. I am fueled my critics and encouragement.

The last thing Dean wanted or expected was to see Castiel show up at the scrapyard. 

“Dean, we need to talk,” he insisted. But the hunter just kept working beneath Baby’s hood. 

“And what makes you think I want to talk to you?” Dean asked, voice cold. Whenever he even thought of Cas, all he could think of was Lisa and Ben and how he had failed them. He thought about Sammy, who had been soulless for 18 months because of this angel bastard. He thought about the wall in Sam’s mind, threatening to come crashing down at any minute. His fault. All of it. 

Castiel looked grave, angry, almost. His ability to show emotions had become more natural since his first arrival to Earth. Although Dean knew that this expression probably implied something terrible, he almost didn’t seem to care. Grease stained the towel he was wiping his hands with. “Fuck you, Cas.”

The angel looked taken aback when their eyes finally met. “I made a mistake, Dean,” he started, slowly, but the hunter was on a roll now.

“Damn straight, you did,” he snapped. “I’m losing everyone. Hell, I even lost you. But you are causing all of this.” 

There was no denying that Dean was angry. He felt the anger bubbling up in his chest, something that few people could pop. But Sam was not a good option right now. Bobby was knee-deep in research and whiskey, and Kelseniana might be working for Cas. Which hurt, by the way. He couldn’t help but recognize the pain that that inflicted on him. Kelsie, as he called her, was a good friend to him. And, if she had stuck around longer, maybe she could have been more. But, she left. Back to the war.

Or to work with Crowley and this fuckstick.

“I understand that you do not agree with what I have done,” Castiel started slowly. Dean scoffed but he ignored him. “And you may not forgive me. However, I am considering breaking my ties with Crowley.”

“Well, whoop-de-doo for you. What do you want, a cookie?”

Castiel pursed his lips. “Dean, he has my last scout.”

“Your-“ Fear swelled up in Dean’s throat once he realized what that meant. Would Crowley really stretch that far? Nearly breaking his alliance with Cas because Dean fucked up? His stomach lurched at the thought of Kelsie strapped to a table, being dissected like a frog. This was just to torture him. The question was, why did he care so much?

“Where,” he asked, voice suddenly very raw.

“She is being kept somewhere out of my reach,” Castiel said. “Possibly to ensure cooperation.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Dean wring the towel in his grease-blackened hands. Hazel eyes staring down his ex-friend. But Castiel neglected the question and vanished.

Frustrated, Dean glanced at his car. Still needed half an hour’s work if he wanted to go anywhere. Half an hour more of what Kelsie could be withstanding. She could end up just like Lisa: hurt and lying in a hospital bed all because he was too stubborn. Even if the world rested on his shoulders, the blood would still be on his hands.

When Dean wandered back to the hood, staring at the engine, a particular memory entered his mind....

“Come on Dean!” Kelsie whined, almost childish, as she sat atop the pile of crushed, scrapped cars. Her legs swung back and forth as if she was resting on a swing, very visible beneath the short skirt she wore. Dean chuckled, finding a good foothold and propelling himself up another car. The moon shone down on them, and he could faintly see the shadows of angel wings on the ground.

“Almost there,” he grunted. Kelsie held out a hand to him and he graciously took it, though using his strength as more of a support. She always seeemed so tiny, like she could blow away at any instant. He always forgot she was an angel. Dean finally came to the top, sitting beside Kelsie on the crushed roof of the rusty station wagon. “You know, this pile just screams tetanus.”

Kelsie giggled softly, and Dean felt butterflies in his stomach. That had been happening more and more lately, the butterflies. He almost wished he could stop them. Almost. 

“Alright, Kelsie,” he said, pulling out his flask. “What did we come up here for?”

She tilted her head. “I wished to spend time with you. As usual.”

Dean snorted softly. “Don’t you ever get sick of me?”

Kelsie stared up at the sky. “Why would I?”

He didn’t question it, or criticize her. The first time he’d tried, she’d been confused and taken it as an order, avoiding him for days. Kelsie was a good soldier even if she never saw too much combat. Always following the rules. Pure and innocent. 

Orion’s belt glittered in the black backdrop that was the night sky. New shadows cast on the ground in a way that they’d never be cast again. Dean glanced down at the ground below to see Kelsie’s wings gently fluttering in the breeze.

“Kelsie?”

“Yes Dean?”

“What do your wings look like?”

She frowned slightly, turning to face him. Wisps of stay hair framed her face. “In all our time together you’ve never asked such a trivial question,” she stated lightly. “I didn’t think it would be so important to you.”

Dean shrugged. “Humor me.”

At first, Dean thought he’d upset her. She was quiet for almost a minute before lowering her head and sighing softly, eyes dimly glowing.

“I’m sorry,” Dean apologized, but the words were quickly stolen from him. His breath caught in his throat. 

Kelsie’s mottled grey wings opened in the moonlight. Large and magnificent, each feather detailed as if they were sculpted by God himself. (Which they were.) Every time they moved, the grey shifted. Sometimes silver, sometimes pure white. Dean had a sudden, strong desire to touch them. He imagined how soft they were. If they would tremble at his touch, or stand firm. The strength and power they possessed.

“Kels….” he whispered. “You-“

But just then, there was a flutter of wings, and she was gone. 

“Apologies,” Castiel said from below the car pile. “She had something to do.”

XXX

Dean clenched his jaw and silently cursed Cas for ruining what could have been something great.


	3. Mumble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley does what he does best and some more feelers are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley, as mentioned previously, is one of my favorite characters. But, realistically, he is a douchebag and literally made a demon deal to get some extra inches “below the belt”. So, try not to hate me for this chapter.
> 
> Also, I will say this: any bondage that you will encounter in my works will be either implied or non-consensual. I am not comfortable writing outright bondage scenes for personal reasons. 
> 
> That being said, please enjoy Kelsie daydreaming about her hunter.

Kelsie felt fingertips brush against her wings, and she whimpered through the blockage in her mouth. Crowley chuckled softly at the reaction he got out of her. Her heart was gripped with fear. 

“Enjoying yourself yet, love?” 

Kelsie was uncomfortably stripped down to her undergarments-lacy black pieces- and tied to a medical table. Some metal bars extending from the table housed her outstretched, chained wings. They weren’t cloaked and she felt violated when Crowley touched her. A black ball gag was wedged into her small mouth and her teeth were currently sinking into it. The leather straps dug into her cheeks, which were slowly turning red. The metal clips cut her lips. They were in some sort of abandoned asylum. The walls were concrete grey with painted warding symbols, and the floor tiles were stained with blood. Sterile equipment lied on a tray nearby and Kelsie shuddered at the thought of what they could do. 

When Crowley stroked the feathers again, she recoiled, jerking against the nylon ropes and moaning loudly in protest. This is not where she wanted to be. She didn’t want to be touched, or strapped down, or gagged like a sex toy. She didn’t want anyone using her body for pleasure. Crowley especially, for that matter. 

“Naughty little angel, are we?” he taunted. She glared at him as he picked up her angel blade. “I like you much better this way.”

Please, she thought, please don’t let him touch me. Father please. Hear me.

His blade dragged down her bare waist and she flinched. The ball wedged her jaw open so much that she could barely form words. “It’s playtime, sweetheart.”

Kelsie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to escape the pain. But soon the blade was knocking against her bones, slicing into her rib cage, biting her collarbone, and she couldn’t ignore it anymore. She screamed, trying to get to angel radio, but it was obvious no one would answer. They might not have even been able to hear her through the warding.

“You know what I like about torturing an angel?” Crowley asked, finally giving up with the knife after Kelsie looked like an accurate depiction of a Ling Chi victim. He picked up a metal box, humming with electricity. Kelsie stared at it, chest rising and falling rapidly. “You all are so untouchable, indestructible. Beforehand I would never mess with one.” 

All of a sudden, Kelsie’s body jolted with pain. Electric shocks rattled her spine and struck every nerve. She yelped, eyes stinging. “But seeing you helpless like this is quite a turn-on,” he added. Another shock. “I’m in control and your bitch brother can’t do anything about it.”

Kelsie sobbed. It was moments like these that she wished her emotions would just turn off. Or that someone would help her for once, and not the other way around. She might have been a bit babied in the garrison, but never spoiled. Never helped. She was chosen to be a scout, and that was her only job. No coworkers. Only orders from the higher-ups. No assistance, unless from Castiel. Nothing. 

All she wanted was someone to swoop her up and take her away. Someone she cared about. In her mind she materialized a cute smirk, hazel eyes, dirty blonde hair, a hint of whiskey and gasoline. A night beneath the stars with only the silence to keep them company. A soft conversation, the shadows of wings.

“What did you say darling?” Crowley inquired, undoing the strap and letting the gag hang loose around her neck. Kelsie did everything she could not to flush with embarrassment. Here she was, being tortured, and now was spitting out names in her desperate attempt to escape to a daydream. Pathetic.

“Why should I tell you-AGH!” Kelsie’s shaky defiance turned into a sobbing scream as she got shocked again. How was this hurting her? Only a year ago did a punch feel like nothing. Maybe it’s because Crowley was a demon. Who knows. 

“I-I SAID DEAN OKAY?!?!” 

Crowley stopped, looking down at Kelsie. “Well how about that,” he remarked. “The angel has feelings.” She grit her teeth trying to push through the unbearable pain. “I am sure it’ll be all the more painful for the Winchesters once they realize they shouldn’t have messed with the king.”

“Weren’t Lisa and Ben enough?” Kelsie hissed softly through her clenched jaw. “When will you be satisfied?”

Crowley toyed with the strap of Kelsie’s bra. She froze. “When those two bumbling buffoons get out of my way so I can collect my new souls. Now-“ he popped the ball back into her mouth, managing to wedge it further due to the slick of saliva it had produced. Kelsie whined as the leather dug in. The demon slipped off his suit jacket.

“Let’s have some real fun.”


	4. Guilty Little Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet our youngest hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is to my best friend: you’re unique and perfect and not like the rest. I love you so much!

Rose was your “run-of-the-mill” foster kid. Except, she hated the term “run-of-the-mill” because it implied that she was like the other factory models and conformed to the stereotypes. It gave the impression that every kid was the same and that certainly was not true. Born on October 23, 1998, age 13. She always dressed up like Morticia Addams on that day and watched horror movies like Friday the 13th. She liked strawberries and soap operas about vampires(she had a secret love for Twilight). 

Rose had been in the same home for six months, her longest placement ever. No emotional support from her guardians, only a push to be better. But she couldn’t complain because she had been in far worse situations. She ate their diets, did their exercises, worked with their tutors, listened to the “girl talks” by the missus. She always, always, always followed the rules because she wouldn’t dare mess up and risk landing somewhere bad. 

So it was on that sunny April afternoon,walking home from school, that Rose felt guilty for breaking the schedule to follow the screams from the old wood-chipping factory.

She walked beside her three newer friends she still didn’t know the names of: Bugsy(the Catholic girl obsessed with modern science), Preppy(the guy whose parents are pushing for an Ivy League), and Nerdy(the rugby player with the braces that always cut his lips). They all lived in the same neighborhood so they found it customary to take the same route as one another. Sticking together was a good plan seeing as people seemed to go missing every now and again. They would walk past the bus stop and take the nice trail through the woods, which would spit them out by the old Collins Glue factory and towards the crappy residentials. Hitch a couple lefts and to the covenant-protected gates of safety and wealth.

Today, Bugsy slowed down to study a praying mantis at the edge of the woods. Rose didn’t mind: they were close to home and thirty minutes ahead of her guardians’ designated schedule for Fridays. Maybe she could sketch Bugsy’s mantis for a minute. She pulled out the fuzzy pink sketchbook the missus had gotten her(she wasn’t one for pink but the fuzz was nice). Bugsy giggled as the mantis climbed up her arm, and Rose’s pencil began to flit across an empty sheet of paper.

As always, Nerdy and Preppy were bickering about comics. Today it was X-Men. “Aw, come on man, Cyclops could kick Angel’s ass!” Nerdy argued. Bugsy gasped at the curse, but didn’t reprimand him like she usually did. Middle school boys often explored topics like cursing, and it wasn’t her job to punish for the Lord. The praying mantis’s long arm stretched out, and Rose quickly captured the pose. It looked longing, but poised. 

“No way! Have you seen Angel’s statistics?” Preppy shot back, happy to engage with his best friend. “He’s too fast, and his stamina is much higher.”

“What? Nuh-uh! Let me see your cards.”

“They’re at home, I don’t have them!”

“Then we’ll go to your house then- whoa Rose that’s a good one!”

Rose looked up, giving them her usual timid smile. She talked, yes- she refused to be the silent type. Bugsy leaned over, grinning. “Wow, that’s pretty!” she exclaimed. “It’s just as good as your bird!” She set the insect on a log, letting it roam free.

“Why can’t you draw comic book characters?” Preppy complained. 

“Well, if you gave me descriptions of an original character!” Rose protested, feeling a bubble of joy swell up. She loved having friends. “And no, you can’t use a character generator,” she added, shooting down a coming protest from Nerdy. “It’s cheating.”

“Man, we could be the comic book developers of the world!” Nerdy boomed, feet hitting the asphalt. 

“Or superheroes,” Bugsy pointed out with a small grin. “After Smartie here goes to Harvard and develops a serum to turn us into mutants.”

“Mutants are developed through DNA changes,” Rose pointed out, inciting a giggle from Bugsy and confirmatory hums from Nerdy and Preppy.

“What-ever,” Bugsy drawled, before being startled by a distant scream. Their heads all snapped towards the glue factory, long shut down due to the torturing of suffering animals, At first they thought it was their imaginations playing tricks on them. After all, every parent warned of the dangers of the factory. Stories were told to keep them away. Everyone followed the rules.

But those screams!

“Y-You think it’s a prank?” Bugsy squeaked. “Maybe s-someone just-“

The next scream cut her off, bloodcurdling and bone-chilling. Nerdy jumped. 

“We have to leave,” Preppy started. The three began to head towards the residentials before hearing the chain-link fence jangle. Preppy spun around. “Rose?!?!”

Rose was climbing the fence with a quickness, as if she’d done it a million times. The screams grew louder and she went faster. Like it was nothing, she slipped around the barbed wire at the top of the fence and jumped down.

“Rose, you’re trespassing!” Bugsy cried out. But Rose wasn’t listening- she was focused on the anxious cries. 

“Go home!” she shouted, running through the shale and rocks that were long abandoned. The property still stunk of burning and she was surprised it hadn’t been torn down yet. The three friends turned tail and ran, and for some reason she felt a pang of warmth in her chest. They actually listened. 

At first, as she ran through the rocks towards the building, Rose felt guilty and reckless. Then she felt courage and strength.

Then she saw a demon for the first time.


	5. Our Special Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the angel recalls a special memory regarding her hunter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is everyone enjoying this? Any comments or concerns? Please reach out in comments!
> 
> Also note that at the beginning of Dean’s healing, he would get drunk a lot and the relationship was initially going to be toxic but I figured it would do the character a major disservice. So we left it alone. And yes, I am aware that Destiel is now canon. Upon rewatching the show I have come to support it. This fanfiction has been on my mind for a while and I wanted to go through with it(I in no way wanted to undermine the soulmate dynamic of Dean and Castiel), but if you wanted a Destiel fanfic, I could accommodate after this series is over. Tell me what you want to see in the comments!

_Too much beer._

_Dean stumbled, the bottle clattering to the ground. He slipped, cutting his hands on the glass. But he didn’t care. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t get beat up over wiping Lisa and Ben’s memories. But the alcohol tasted so good. It numbed everything._

_“Fuck you Cas,” he slurred upon hearing the flutter of wings._

_“Dean?” Kelsie asked, inquisitive. He looked at her with stormy hazel eyes, chuckling. He was angry and drunk, that much she could tell. Not desiring conflict, she stepped back. His hands were bleeding from the deep cuts. He stood._

_“He sent another one of his little soldiers did he?” he snapped. She didn’t flinch, but for some reason that hurt. “Sent you to what? Apologize for him? Don’t bother. Sending sluts like you isn’t going to change what he did. HE’S A FUCKING DICK!” Dean ended up screaming, glass crunching beneath his feet. Without a word, Kelsie left the room._

_“Yeah that’s right,” he growled, “run off and leave me alone…”_

_His bleeding was becoming worse by the second, and he remembered that Bobby and Sam weren’t home. He was all alone. Grumbling and mumbling, he didn’t realize that Kelsie had come back with a first aid kit. Her jacket was discarded, a thin tanktop underneath. She sidled up to him without fear. He snarled animalistically. She didn’t even flinch. “Hit me,” she ordered bluntly._

_Dean stared at her, bewildered. “You’re a chick,” he stated._

_“Very observant,” Kelsie hissed. She was starting to look pissed off. “Hit. Me.”_

_Dean hesitated, before delivering a painful hit to her stomach. She didn’t cry, moan, flinch, or grunt. She just stared at him. This made him angry. So he did it again. He kept going, the glass digging further into his skin. He thought about every single thing he’d ever faced, every dark urge and twisted thought. He kept going until Kelsie spit up blood. Dean stopped to take a look at her toned abdomen, which was bruised deeply. With a certain gentleness, he wrapped his hands around her waist and squeezed. One of her ribs gave in and she hissed again._

_“I thought I couldn’t hurt you,” he said._

_And then burst into tears. Kelsie knew he was shitfaced drunk, but she’d never seen a Winchester cry before. It wasn’t like she was in any real pain. It was only a vessel. Nothing would ever be able to hurt her except for a demon or an angel. Yet it seemed as if the wounds were seriously upsetting him._

_“Dean, i’m alright,” Kelsie reassured him, healing herself and giving him a hug. He crumbled at her touch, collapsing to the ground. “What’s wrong? I’m in no pain.” When all he did was shake his head, Kelsie pulled the glass out of his hand and moved to heal them._

_“No,” he said._

_Kelsie frowned. “Why?”_

_“Just stitch them…”_

_“But I could make it so much easier.”_

_“I want the scars, Kels.”_

XXX

The angel opened her eyes, blurry and unfocused. In the background there was fighting and screaming. For a moment she thought she saw a girl whacking a demon with a crowbar. Maybe she was hallucinating. Kelsie moaned softly in the presence of pain. Another scream rang through the building and she strained to lift her head. A hand snaked beneath it to help, and she tensed. The hand began to unfasten the buckle behind her head. Rough fingertips gently stroked her face, and she knew it wasn’t Crowley.

The ball was eased from her mouth and she exercised her jaw, trying to focus on the hand touching her face. Distorted mumbles reached her ears. All her blurry eyes could make out were scars: still fresh, but healed enough to be scars. Jagged, zigzaggy, made by glass. She smelled whiskey and gunpowder.

“Dean.”


	6. Rose and the Crowbar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rose discovers demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry um this is kind of a crap chapter, but the next one will be good i promise!

“LET GO!!!” Rose screamed, fighting against the demon holding her captive. He snorted, throwing her down and picking out a knife. 

“I haven’t played with girlies like you in a long while,” he snickered, teeth gleaming. “That’s what I went to Hell for, you know… playing.” Rose gulped, scrambling backwards on the floor, looking for anything she could use as means for protection. In the corner, a crowbar lay forgotten by some vandalizing teenager. However, it was several feet away, and she would never make it in time. But she had to try. 

Rose launched herself across the floor, but the demon yanked her back by the ankle and pinned her down. She screeched, flailing as the knife was pressed to her throat. 

“We’re going to have fun,” the demon chuckled. She spat in his face, receiving a rather brutal slap from him. Her cheek stung red, and she resisted the urge to cry. Fuck this guy. He was a delusional prick, probably on the most wanted list. She could give him a swift kick to the jewels and dial 9-1-1 faster than he could recover.

But those eyes… 

Before either of them could act, a gunshot rang through the room. It buzzed in Rose’s eardrums, and she flinched. The demon dropped and rolled off of her, howling and clutching his leg. The crowbar was within range now. Grab it! Rose’s instincts screamed. Grab it! Footsteps rapidly approached. The young girl snatched it up and swiveled, bringing it down with all her strength. All the workouts and diets with the missus must have paid off: a sickening crack signaled the shattering of the demon’s skull. 

A gun cocked, and her head shot up. Rose drew the crowbar back threateningly. Two tall men in leather jackets and flannel stared down at her. One was much taller than the other, with shoulder-length brown hair. The shorter one was a bit bowlegged and constantly gripped his pistol. Rose snarled. Both took a slight step back in surrender.

“Hey, relax,” the tall one said, hands raised towards her as if to calm her down. “I’m Sam and this is Dean, and we’re with the FBI and we’re here to help. Your friends told us you came here, chasing after some screaming.”

“Bullshit!” Rose snapped. “You aren’t FBI!”

“Cool your jets, kid,” the shorter one, Dean, snapped back. “Put the crowbar down.”

Rose’s shaky hands only succeeded in gripping the weapon tighter. Blood caked the sharp, hooked end, and was staining her fingers. 

“We aren’t going to hurt you,” Dean continued, gesturing towards the next section of the factory, “but that guy in there? He’ll snap your neck like a twig if he catches wind that you’re here.”

Rose was vaguely aware of the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her mouth was dry. “Who was that guy I just… killed…”

“You didn’t kill him,” Sam corrected. She found him comforting. “He’s just knocked out.”

“See, that’s a demon,” Dean explained. “Came from Hell, horns-and-tail with a pitchfork, black eyes, the whole nine.” 

“A-A what?” Rose stammered, but the shorter man was clearly agitated and ready to go trigger-happy on whatever murderer was in the next room over. 

“A demon, and there are more in this building that would be more than willing to rape and kill a kid like you, so you should go and get in the car outside,” he said shortly. When she didn’t move, he strengthened his resolve: “Now.”

Rose said no more, moving towards the exit at a rapid pace. The crowbar was still nestled between her stained fingers, the wet metal now warm and inviting. The two men moved the opposite direction. 

Once Rose emerged outside, soft breeze caressed her face and blew her hair to the side. Normally she would take comfort in nature. But not this time. There was a dying woman in that factory, and two “FBI” agents walking in without backup. No one was there to save them in case things went south. She couldn’t call the cops, because she didn’t have a phone. What else was there to do except go back in?

So she turned back around and marched in.

Everything else was a blur. The two agents were kicking ass and getting their asses kicked, and there were bodies everywhere. One demon got close to her, and that was all she remembered.


	7. A Conversation With an Intellectual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the girl learns just how much bigger the world is, and Sam is left to contemplate his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if I should change this chapter or delete it entirely and just imply a conversation between Sam and Rose. It felt forced to me and it isn’t exactly necessary. I just wanted the characters to have more interaction before I thrust Rose into the world of monsters. Please let me know, and leave plenty of kudos! 🙏 Dean and Kelsie fluff coming up!

South Dakota. She had been only five hours away this entire time. Sam tried not to let it eat at him, but the same couldn’t be said for Dean. He knew that the guilt parasite was wrangling his brother’s intestines. Especially since he couldn’t have saved her without help. On top of their mutilated, broken angel, there was the matter of Crowley. The kid had bashed his head in pretty good but he was still alive and kicking, vanished shortly afterwards. The time to open purgatory was drawing close and Sam was not sure if they would be able to stop him. 

But he had to keep up his faith, because if he didn’t do that, then what chance did they have to fix any of this?

Dean had taken the Impala back to Bobby’s with Kelsie, and Sam was left to walk the teen girl they’d recovered back home. She was shaking, gripping the straps of her Jack Skellington backpack tightly, knuckles white. 

“You alright? You seem a bit shaken up,” Sam said, looking down at her. 

“It’s adrenaline,” she explained, not seeming the least bit upset about what she’d just witnessed. “It triggers the fight-or-flight response, and it helps your air passages dilate to help the muscles receive extra oxygen for a fight. After the response has been triggered people often shake or-“

Sam snorted. “I took biology, kid, I know.” She was pretty smart. “It’s Rose, right?”

Rose nodded. “And you’re… is your name really Sam, or is that another lie you tell people so they don’t run into demons?”

“Yeah, I’m Sam.” He paused. “Most people we run into after something like this are scared.”

“Yeah, well, Sam, I have been through a lot.” Rose kicked a rock down the street. The sun was beginning to set, casting golden shadows on her tanned face. She was pretty scrawny as most thirteen-year-olds go, but she was strong both physically and mentally. Sam felt a certain tug at his heart, reminding himself of his early teen years. “Is that woman going to be okay? Th-the angel?”

Sam nodded. “We have a good friend who can fix her up. She’ll be just fine.” 

“That’s good.” Rose kicked the rock again. “And what about the demons? That guy whose head I bashed in…”

Sam sighed. “Usually we don’t tell people about our hunts, especially kids.”

“Hunts? You do this for a living?”

_ Stop talking, Sam!  _ Sam hooked his thumbs into the loops of his jeans. “We don’t get paid.” Seeing as the girl wouldn’t let it go, he continued, “as for the demons, we’ll take care of them. We always do. The guy you hit, his name was Crowley. He’s the king.”

“The king of Hell?” Sam hummed in confirmation. “Why did he have your friend?”

“Well… he’s trying to crack open Purgatory, the resting place of all dead monsters. He wants souls, or whatever. And me and my brother are trying to stop him. Crowley was trying to keep us distracted.”

“He sounds like a bad guy.” They passed the sign welcoming them into the covenant-protected community. “Your brother loves that girl, doesn’t he?”

Sam felt something like amusement tug at his lips. “Yeah, yeah he does. That obvious?”

“I mean, it was pretty evident.” They shared a giggle before reaching her house. “Sam?”

“Yeah kid?”

“Is Crowley gonna come for me? Y’know, since I bashed his face in?”

_ Shit.  _ Sam hadn’t thought of that. He looked down at the young girl, fresh into her teen years. So many people had died because of them, and it made him sick knowing that Crowley very well may come for Rose and gut her just for picking a fight. He was that sadistic and cruel. He would go for her whole family just to get the last word.

“He might try,” Sam admitted. “But there are precautions you can take.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out some spare hex bags. “These are called hex bags. They can hide you from demons.”

Rose took one, examining it. “Like an Invisibility Cloak?”

Sam smiled. “Yeah, basically. Put some in your house, keep one with you at all times. Salt and iron are great deterrents for demons as well.”

Rose nodded, looking up at him with an innocent expression. “And if all else fails?”

The hunter knew from experience: Plans A and B would always tank, one way or another. So he pulled out a scrap of paper and wrote his, Bobby’s, and Dean’s numbers, handing it to her. She read them and stuffed it in her pocket along with the hex bags.

“Those numbers belong to me and my brother, and our friend Bobby. Bobby lives about five hours from here, so if you ever need to run, call and we’ll pick you up,” he swore. Rose’s eyes filled with a hope he hadn’t seen in anyone except himself. It was a hope for escape.

The door to her house opened, and an older couple stood there. The woman’s face was stained with tears, and the man’s was stern. “Rosie!!!” the woman cried, running towards them. Rose sighed, face morphing into one of routine. Sam gave a quick explanation to the couple before leaving the town behind, thinking about the teen he had just met. 


End file.
